The Forgotten Swan
by ArjunaRose
Summary: Dante Swan, the younger twin brother of Isabella Swan, loved that after years of begging he was finally allowed to go live with his dad, Charlie Swan, for good. What he hated was that Isabella has to go along with him. It seemed that Dante and Isabella were different in every way possible, but apparently not when Vampires and Shapeshifters were thrown into the mix. (Hiatus)


**A/N:** Just a little something I started writing while reading the first book again. I am going to state it right here and now that most of this story will be almost word for word of the books with it just written in my OC's POV. There will be original chapters and scenes later on, maybe in two chapters or so, but for now it is what it is. I am making no profit from this and I lay claim only to what is not written in the books or films. I hope you enjoy this story even though I have no idea how often it will be updated due to my main focus being on my other stories up at the moment.

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 **The Forgotten Swan**

Dante Swan, the younger by an hour twin brother of Isabella Swan, loved that after years of begging he was finally allowed to go live with his dad, Charlie Swan, for good. What he hated was that Isabella has to go along with him. He doesn't hate his twin by nature, but years of always being second best to her clumsiness has it's limits. He hasn't been able to see his dad for longer than two weeks in four years thanks to Isabella's dislike of Forks and the cold. It seemed that Dante and Isabella were different in every way possible, but apparently not. When Vampires and Shapeshifters are thrown into the mix, you never know what is going to happen. Even the forgotten Swan may get a chance to shine in these bizarre circumstances.

Chapter One - **Finally Home**

My mother drove my big twin sister, Isabella Swan, and myself to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky an annoyingly, cloudless blue. I was glad to be on my way out of this blisteringly hot town, so I rest in the back seat of our mother's car, letting the hot air of the Arizona heat rush through my choppy, light brown hair, enjoying the last of the heat before we finally leave this god forsaken place. I already had my favorit thick woolen jacket on the seat next to me, ready to put on as soon as we step off the plane.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was in this town that Isabella and I spent a month every summer until we were fourteen. That was the year my sister demanded we stop going; these past three summers, our dad, Charlie, vacationed with us in California for two weeks instead. Giving me no refuge from this hell hole I've been forced to live in. Apparently, without Bella I was not allowed to go visit Dad. Stupid, I know.

It was to Forks that we now traveled - a fact that excited me beyond belief because it meant that I could finally go back home, to my Dad. I detested Arizona and I was finally leaving it all behind.

I loved Forks. I loved the cold and the near constant rain. I loved the small, cosy town. I loved the people. I loved the Indian reservation, La Push. I loved the seemingly endless array of forests and beaches.

"Bella," Mom said to my sister - hopefully the last of a thousand times - before we got onto the plane. "You don't have to do this."

Our mom looks like us, short hair like myself, only an inch or two longer, and laugh lines. As much as I loved her, I was so relieved to be leaving this place that I couldn't even begin to think about how she would fare without us cooking for her and my old job in my spare time helping to pay for the bills and stock the fridge.

"I want to go," Isabella lied, a little better than usual. She'd always been a terrible liar, but with the amount she had been saying it lately, it almost sounded convincing now. Almost.

"We need to hurry up, Mom. I don't want to miss the flight," I nagged, wanting nothing more than to rush on board and sink into the uncomfortable plane seat, where I would be sitting for the next few hours. My words seemed to remind the two of the impending flight, making them speed things along.

"Tell Charlie I said hi." Mom said awkwardly, knowing that we most likely would not, considering their rocky relationship at best.

"We will," my rushed words interrupted Isabella's and before she could say much more, I'd already grabbed a hold of her arm and started yanking her along, our mom following behind.

"I'll see you soon," she insisted, referring to Isabella once more, knowing it would be a long time before I ever wanted to willingly come back here. "You can come home whenever you want - I'll come right back as soon as you need me." I doubted her words, reviewing her tracklist in my mind.

"Don't worry about me," Isabella urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom." I could still hear the lie in her voice even when I wasn't facing her.

Mom grabbed a hold of Bella, hugging her tightly for a minute, then moving onto me to give me a quick, tight squeeze before letting go.

"Love you too, Mom." I quietly said, looking into her eyes to show her I meant it even after everything I said and did to her out of anger or spite. She gave me a small smile that I almost missed, and then we got on the plane, and she was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying usually bothered me, but knowing that I was mere hours from seeing my dad, and the place I called home, made it almost pleasant. The hour in the car with Dad, though, was going to be the best part.

Dad had been ecstatic about the whole thing. I could tell he was genuinely please that Isabella and I were coming to live with him for the first time since our mother took us away from him. He'd already registered us for high school and was going to help Isabella get a car since I was already promised Harry Clearwater's old 1960 Holden FB Standard if I helped him and Jacob Black fix it up. It was sure to be a fun project.

I knew that Dad, like Mom, was more than a little confused by her decision - like Mom, Isabella hadn't made a secret out of her distaste for Forks. I would have been confused as well if I didn't know her so well. She was doing it for Mom, and that I could respect her for. Especially when it meant I could come home for good.

When we landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I took it as a greeting, a small 'welcome home', loving everything about it. The sight, feeling and even smell. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun and welcomed the cold rain with open arms and a warm smile.

Dad was waiting for us with the cruiser. I was expecting as such and by the look on my sister's face, she was too. Dad is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. Apparently, Isabella's primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of her funds, was that she refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. 'Nothing slows down traffic like a cop', she would go on to explain to anyone listening, or even in the same room as was my case.

Dad gave Isabella an awkward, one-armed hug when she stumbled her way off the plane. It was amusing to watch, to say the least.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied her. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?" he asked, looking over Isabella's short form to me as I descended the stairs from the plane. I simply nodded, allowing my twin to answer, instead of interrupting, like I tend to do a lot in her presence.

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." The use of the word 'Dad' coming from her lips made me falter for a bit, before I remembered Mom's rule about calling him 'Dad' to his face, in order to not offend him. Why she couldn't just call him 'Dad' regularly still stumped me.

"Dante, how are you, son?" Dad asked me as we walked side by side to the luggage carrier, Isabella following silently behind.

"Much better, now that I'm home." I admitted, bringing a smile to Dad's face.

Although Isabella didn't have many bags, since most of her clothes were too permeable for Washington, I carried even fewer, not believing I needed many clothes other than the essentials and the jacket I was wearing. Not surprisingly, Dad and I managed to easily fit everything into the trunk of the cruiser while Isabella walked over to the front passenger side seat.

"I found a good car for you, Bells, really cheap," He announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" She asked, suspicion caking her voice.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast that we used to go to all the time as kids. I don't think Isabella has been there in almost six years though, since she always liked to stay indoors or in Port Angeles when she was here.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Dad prompted, reminding me of this one time where I actually managed to catch a large fish, but fall in right after getting it above water level. Billy actually managed to snap a picture. I think he may still have it somewhere too, knowing him. I doubted Isabella remembered much of those times. She has a talent for blocking out 'painful' or 'unnecessary' things from her memory. "He's in a wheelchair now," Dad continued when she didn't respond, bringing back the memory of the night he told me about that over the phone, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" Isabella enquired.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine - it's only a few years old, really." I figured by 'Billy' he really meant 'Billy's son, Jacob' more than likely, with how excited I've heard he is over fixing up Harry's old car with me.

"When did he buy it?" She asked, not letting it go, like her usual, determined self.

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties - or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch - Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I won't be able to fix it if anything went wrong and I couldn't afford a mechanic…" Her faltering over Dad's name made me wince a little, knowing it would more than likely hurt Dad, even if he didn't show it.

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, even that made me cringe.

"How cheap is cheap?"

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." I could tell Dad was hopeful that she would like it and I doubted that would be a problem with her getting a free truck.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He admitted, uncomfortably. Dad wasn't used to expressing his emotions out loud, something Isabella inherited from him, so this showed how much he wanted her to like it here.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by her thanks.

They exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was 'wet', according to her, and that was pretty much it for their conversation. They would have stared out the windows in silence if I hadn't of brought up baseball. Dad then went off about the latest game he saw with Harry and Billy.

It was beautiful, of course; it was my favorite thing about Forks. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was perfect - home.

Eventually we made it there. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with our mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had - the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was Isabella's new-old truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, she loved it. I didn't know if it would even run, but we would find out soon enough. Plus, it was of of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged - the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. At least I knew she would be safe in it, even with her clumsiness.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" For some reason she looked relieved. As though some horrific event had been avoided just thanks to the hunk of metal that called itself a truck.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. I'm just glad that she didn't accidently call him Charlie again.

It took only one trip to get all our stuff upstairs. I only had the one suitcase while Isabella had hers, which Dad carried up the stairs for her, and a large carry on bag. She took the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room we used to share as kids.

Since the house only had two bedrooms, Dad and I had decided that, with my help, we would empty the attic and try to renovate it into a bedroom. He already had planning permission and Sam Uley, from the reservation, agreed to help us with any heavy lifting jobs. Apparently, the man was build like a brick house. Dad worried that we was getting himself into drugs, so he hoped this job would help sort him out a little and give him more of a support network… if he was on drugs that is.

For now though, I would be sharing his room, to give Bella her feminine space. I didn't mind though. It gave us more time to bond and catch up, because the large amount of time we spent on the phone almost every week was not enough, according to myself. We left Bella alone, to get settled in, while we went to Dad's room to place my clothes in a single draw, Dad cleared out for me, and my baseball gear in his closet. That's probably the biggest thing Dad and I had in common. Our shared passion for baseball. Many nights we had stayed up, watching the game, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. It was great. He's probably the reason I loved to play it. I just hoped that they would let me onto the school's team. According to Dad, they were in need of a catcher, my ideal position. But really, anything would do as long as I could play.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Dad and Isabella. I didn't mind too much, considering I only really took a quick shower and brushed my teeth and hair every day to get ready. It was Isabella I worried about, but as long as I woke up before her, I would hopefully be able to get ready in time for school. Even if I did have to walk two miles in the rain if Isabella ever managed to destroy her truck, and believe me, if it's Isabella we are talking about, it's possible.

One of the best things about Dad is his ability to convey his emotions in actions, not words. He understands people, especially his family. Knowing exactly the right times to leave you alone, or to come to your aid if you're in need. It's the main reason why I always wanted to live with him instead of Mom. Don't get me wrong, I do love my mother, Renée. But Mom always found it hard to communicate with me. We had nothing in common and she was used to only flirting with men, not holding proper conversations with them about sport or their day. She always gave all her attention to Isabella, knowing that it hurt me, but not knowing what else to do. I was used to by now though. I understood that she did try her best and I loved her for it. I just wish she would have let me at least see my dad more often.

Forks High School had a grand total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-nine - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home, something that I never quite liked. All of the kids here had grown up together - their grandparents had been toddlers together. Bella and I would be the new kids from the big city, a curiosity, freaks. But honestly, I didn't mind it. I loved the thought of not having to learn a few hundred different names when I started just to forget them all as soon as I left the building.

Maybe, if we looked like people from Phoenix should, people wouldn't question us as much. But physically, we didn't fit into that image. We _should_ be tan, and compared to Isabella, I was. Although I hated living in the valley of the sun, I still went out with friends, playing baseball every chance I got, generally just getting out of the house that always felt suffocating. Unfortunately, for Isabella, she did not look like she fit in anywhere. She wasn't tan, she wasn't sporty, nor blond - a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, even - the thought of her participating in either enough to make me laugh for hours on end. No, she wasn't any of those things.

Instead, she was ivory-skinned, a few shades lighter than me, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine, because she hardly ever left the shade - a feet I didn't think possible in a place like that. We both had always been slender, but soft somehow, even with my athletic tendencies, I never seemed to build much muscle definition, and there was no chance Isabella would ever be any type of athlete. She didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating herself - and harming both herself and anyone else who stood too close, mostly me, back when I didn't know any better.

Thinking on it more, I realised that it wasn't just physically that Isabella never fit in. She was always alone, back at our old school, if she wasn't with me. I just hoped that she would be able to find somewhere to belong, here, if only so she would stop clinging to me at school. We never really got along well. She didn't relate well to people our age… sometimes I wondered if she even related to people, period. Even our mother, who she was closer to than anyone else on the planet, didn't always see eye to eye with her. Sometimes it was like she didn't even see the same things we did. She once said that maybe there was a glitch in her brain. It just made me laugh at her silliness, but now that I think on it more, maybe her brain is a little bit different to others. A bit more… focused, in a way. Once she got something into her mind, she couldn't let it go. Almost like an obsession. I'd hoped that maybe this new school would be good for her, to stop the strange obsessing she does over the smallest of things and her self-deprecating tendencies.

Tomorrow we would find out how she would react to Forks High School. Hopefully it would be better than the last place. Personally, I just hoped that they would have a baseball team that would let me join.

That night the constant rain and wind going across the roof ebbed me to sleep, where I dreamed of old memories, containing Dad and I.


End file.
